


The Choices of Others

by ncfan



Series: The House of Finwë in the Years of the Trees [39]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Frustration, Gen, Gender Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looks at her stifled life, wanting more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Choices of Others

She never sees or hears Melkor directly. Her parents have forbidden her to do so, and this, at least, Artanis considers sound practice. The Vala may have been pardoned, he may have made a show of repentance, but that does not mean that the Quendi forget.

So Artanis never lays eyes upon Melkor for all the time that he is in Tirion and while she may catch a hint at times of a rich, compelling (indeed, unnaturally so) voice, she tries not to listen to him. Really, Artanis tries not to listen. Anyone who has been paying any attention to the state Tirion's been falling into and whose head has not been filled with the Vala's words must see that Melkor is trying to stir up trouble. To what end, Artanis can not say, but just looking at the effect he's had on her city, Artanis can scarcely imagine that he has some other goal.

She tries not to listen.

All the same…

_Am even I weak to whispers and lies? Am even I week to he who turns neighbor against neighbor, brother against brother, sister against sister, husband against wife, parent against child?_

Here is the sad truth, as Artanis knows it. The Minyar turned Melkor away from their city and villages, their dwellings. The Lindar and the shore seem to interest him little, for as far as Artanis knows, Melkor has never paid any visits to their cities and settlements. But among the Noldor, in their great capital of Tirion upon Túna, Melkor must have found a great deal to work with, if his intention is to sow dissent. He likely never even had to say much.

How many secret resentments has he unearthed? How many people seeking knowledge and finding they way shut to them? How much frustration, however hidden? How many people dissatisfied with their lots in life, wanting more? The cobbler wants to learn a better way of making his shoes. The mother wants appreciation for all the hard work she does. The chronicler wants access to more of the history of the world than the Valar will allow them access to, and they have to wonder just why they have been refused. The musician desires a greater audience for their music. The blacksmith wants the freedom to make what they will, when they will, without restriction. The wife longs to be allowed to work again at all. The daughter wants her freedom.

The daughter wants her freedom.

_Have you not always felt some unfocused, pervasive frustration with your life? Have you not always felt discontented, wanting more? Was this not in your head even before Melkor came to Tirion? The restlessness he has inspired in the Noldor has only fanned the flames of your pre-existing unrest, fanned them so high that you can ignore them no longer._

It seems to Artanis that there is a buffer between her and the rest of the world. Part of this is self-imposed, the need for solitude, for space overwhelming her to the point of keeping all others at arm's length. But part of it is a buffer imposed by others, invisible, following her around wherever she goes. It keeps others from getting in, and it keeps her from getting out just as well.

Her parents, her brothers, they know her to be strong in body and mind, and yet, even they enforce it against her. Artanis is not sure if they realizes that this is what they do, keep her trammeled, grounded, frustrated, but it is the result of their actions all the same. She is criticized if she raises her voice, though whenever she does so, Artanis's voice does not carry nearly as much as the voices of her brothers, especially Angaráto and Aikanáro. She is chastised for speaking too much in public, or too little, and no one bothers to tell her how much is too much, or how little is too little. She must do what her father says, though she is grown and her brothers are not as bound to Arafinwë's word and will as she is. She must not go out alone, under any circumstances. Even the clothes she wears feel like a cage, something that identifies her as privileged and yet constrained.

Artanis knows that she is not the only one who feels this particular unrest. Eärwen and Indis, she thinks, long to return to their homes, knowing that the Noldor consider them outsiders, and will continue to do so. Findis longs for solitude. Elenwë has given up all the trappings of the Minyar, the better to integrate herself into Noldorin society and avoid drawing criticism down on her husband's head, but at the same time, she feels as though she has betrayed her own people. Artanis sees so little of Lalwen, but knows that her aunt married outside of the nobility of the Noldor in the attempt to escape that sort of life. Anairë bottles herself up, denies herself her dreams and desires for the sake of a façade.

Nerdanel defies what society expects of her, but Artanis knows that Nerdanel will never care what others think of her continuing to work even after wedding and becoming a mother. She knows also that Nerdanel does not do this without a price, knows that her aunt's maternal capacities, her very love for her children, is so often called into question.

Irissë is often away, hunting or travelling or simply wandering the countryside, in the company of her brothers, her cousins, or alone as it pleases her to do so. She loves the wilds of Aman far more than she has ever loved the cities, and uncovering unseen places is her joy. Indis will send her to Taniquetil with letters for her Kin, and Irissë takes them on without complaint for the fact that the role of messenger is far beneath the station of a princess. But Artanis knows that Irissë does not do this without a price, that her cousin is deemed wild and unfeminine. More to the point, Artanis knows that Irissë is allowed to behave as she does largely because Nolofinwë is so indulgent of his daughter—if Anairë had her way, Irissë would not be from home nearly so often as she is. Sometimes, Artanis wonders if Irissë's wandering isn't her own way of fleeing the cages that have restrained _her._

Artanis tries to find release in her own way. She studies lore, learns to weave and sew, something to keep her hands occupied, her mind occupied. She studies magic in Taniquetil alongside Findaráto, learns to race chariots with him as well, though the latter is something of an on and off again interest for them both. Anything to keep her occupied, distracted, keep her mind and body strong, despite everything.

But it's still the same as it's always been.

When she was a child, these walls, the walls keeping her in were still there. They took another form, back then, but they were no less solid. Now, as an adult, Artanis finds that the walls are still there, but they have taken their final shape. She is constrained, forced into a rigid niche and told to stay there, never stray, never deviate, never take one step in a direction she planned for herself.

Artanis knows what she wants. She is the daughter who wants her freedom. She wants to be counted the equal of her brothers, wants to be taught to rule alongside them, knowing that she is just as capable as Findaráto, as Angaráto, as Aikanáro, as Artaresto. She wants her life to be determined by her own choices, and not by others. She wants what's hers by right, she wants her birthright as a granddaughter of Finwë, as a daughter of the royal house of the Noldor.

Perhaps Melkor has put a fire in her, as he has in others, but Artanis does not think so. This has always been here, in her heart, wanting a voice of its own. She looks at her stifled life, and she is bitter, wanting more.

**Author's Note:**

> Artanis—Galadriel  
> Angaráto—Angrod  
> Aikanáro—Aegnor  
> Arafinwë—Finarfin  
> Nolofinwë—Fingolfin  
> Findaráto—Finrod  
> Artaresto—Orodreth
> 
> Quendi—Elves (Singular: Quendë) (Quenya)  
> Minyar—The original name of the clan of the Vanyar  
> Lindar—'Singers'; the named the Teleri of Aman use to refer to themselves (Quenya)


End file.
